I Thought I Knew It All

I'm watching tv when I hear a knock on my door. For a moment, I consider not getting up. I'm not big on daytime television, but some hooker is about to find out if douchebag one or douchebag two is her baby's daddy. It's riveting stuff.

When the knock is repeated, a little more insistently this time, I sigh and slide off my bed. It's only a few steps to the door, and then I'm swinging it open. I come face to face with a guy—little more than a kid, really— whose eyes are darting around nervously as he shifts from foot to foot. When he sees me, sees the scowl on my face, he nearly shits himself.

"What?" I ask, my tone harsh. I'm not used to being disturbed; I don't like it.

He stumbles over his words for a moment, clearly uncomfortable in my presence. It would almost be amusing if I wasn't so annoyed. I let out a low growl when the wait starts getting ridiculous, and the sound snaps the kid to attention. "General Maydos wants you to attend a meeting at his palace this afternoon," he finally manages to spit out.

"Oh?" I cross my arms and lean against the door frame. "And why did that ugly fucker need to send some child to tell me that? Am I not important enough to merit a call?"

We don't have real phones in Hell, but it's a simple matter to send a message to another demon through magic. It's actually more convenient than a phone system, since it's free. That's why we've never bothered making phones, like we did with televisions and countless other human inventions. Why bother trying to improve something that already works great?

The kid gulps and shrugs. "Sorry, sir. I wasn't told. General Maydos just said to deliver this message to you and the other Generals."

That sets the alarm bells ringing in my head. There's only one reason Maydos would use someone to deliver his messages instead of calling or writing them down; he doesn't want them to be intercepted. And since he's gathering together nine of the most powerful demons in Hell for some secret meeting, there's only one person he could be worried about finding out.

The boss.

"What time?"

"Five o'clock." The kid is slowly shuffling backwards as he speaks, trying to put as much distance between me and himself as possible. I don't blame him. I've got a reputation for violence that makes most people nervous.

"Tell Maydos I'll be there." And I won't be alone.

I don't tell the kid that last bit. Instead, I slam the door in his face and turn back to my room. The show I was watching is almost done; turns out douchebag two is the lucky papa. He doesn't look pleased, but the other slimeball is doing enough happy dancing for the both of them. I leave the tv on and make my way over to the far wall.

A massive stone fireplace takes up the majority of the wall. It's something almost every room in Hell has in common; somewhere in the room is a fireplace. I'm not one hundred percent sure why that is. Maybe we're just trying to live up to the image everybody has of us, the whole fire and brimstone thing. I don't know. We certainly don't need them. It's considered a chilly day in Hell when it drops below eighty degrees.

But whatever the reason is, it works in my favour. I'm a fire-walker. Wherever fire is burning, I can go. And with the abundance of huge fireplaces down here, I can pretty much go wherever I want. Definitely not a bad thing.

Today, my destination is the big man's office. There's no fire burning in my fireplace, but a brief second of concentration fixes that. Magical flames flare up, burning fiercely despite a complete lack of fuel.

I step into the flames and find myself in a long, dark hallway. It stretches ahead and behind me, endless. Even with my eyesight, I can't see how far it extends. On both sides of the hall, spaced every few feet, are heavy wooden doors. Each door leads to a different fireplace in Hell.

That's how fire-walking works. A lot of people seem to think you just need to visualize where you're going and you'll pop right there. That's bullshit. If it was like that, I'd only be able to travel to places I've already seen. Too limiting, by far. Although, after all the time I've spent in Hell, I probably have been everywhere at one point or another.

I start off down the hall. The general rule is the closer the destination is to where I started from, the closer the door will be. I know from experience a faint red glow will be surrounding the door in question—my magic's way of showing me where I need to go.

But today, I don't need it. I've made this same trip countless times, so I know exactly which door leads to Lucifer's office.

When I step out of his fireplace, I'm not surprised to find him doing something strange. Lucifer, the Devil, Satan—whatever the fuck you want to call him—is lying on the floor in his boxers, playing catch with a small stone. He tosses it up, with enough force to nearly hit the high ceiling, then catches it as it plummets toward him.

"Something wrong, John?" He calls me John, even though it's not my name. It's a little joke between the two of us that's been going on since my favourite movie—Die Hard—came out.

"I just got a message from Maydos," I tell him. "He wants all your Generals to attend a meeting at his palace later this afternoon. He's taking measures to make sure you don't find out about it."

Lucifer catches the stone one last time, then sits up and looks at me. His eyes—an impossibly bright yellow—are difficult to read. But the corner of his mouth is starting to curl up, like he's fighting back a smile. "So, he's finally making his move, eh? Good, good. Do you think he'll do it today?"

I shrug. "It's hard to tell. I can't imagine it'll be long though. Calling me to this meeting, that's a pretty ballsy move. One way or another, he's going to take his shot at me today. Which means the master plan has to be going down soon." I reach into my pocket, withdraw a slightly-crumpled package of cigarettes and slide a smoke out of it. I don't need a lighter or matches; my magic has the end burning the second I place the cigarette in my mouth.

Lucifer eyes me with a frown on his face. "What did I tell you about doing that in here?"

"That I have to share with you?" I hold the pack out to him, my face split by a wide grin.

That's my joke for the boss. He hates smoking, thinks it's a dirty habit. So I make sure to offer him one every time we're in the same room.

He rolls his eyes. "Enough clowning around, John."

"Suit yourself." I return the pack to my pocket and take a long drag off my lit cigarette. I feel the smoke burn all the way down my throat. "Ah, that's good. Remind me to pick up a couple more packs soon."

"Yeah, I'll be sure to do that." Rising to his feet, Lucifer steps over to his desk and picks up his shirt. His clothes are scattered all over the room, like he just stripped down and flung them everywhere the moment he stepped through the door. His shoes are on opposite sides of the room and his pants are hanging off the edge of his television cabinet. "Have you figured out what you're going to do?"

He doesn't specify what's he's talking about; he doesn't need too. "Yes," I reply, leaning against the wall and taking another drag on the smoke. "I'm going to walk right into that asshole's meeting and rip out his spine."

Lucifer, fully clothed, sits down at his desk and focuses those piercing eyes on me. "What about the rest of my Generals? Those are seven extremely powerful demons who all want a piece of your ass, and they'll all be there."

I shrug, a sheepish smile on my face. "I haven't really thought about them much. But if they decide they want to throw down, I'm more than willing to show them why people fear me." My smile morphs into a smirk. "Besides, I'll have you for backup. And since it took just about all of Heaven's might to boot your ass out, I'm thinking you're probably not too shabby in a fight."

He laughs then, a deep, hearty sound. "True enough, my friend. I have been told I swing a mean sword. Nearly took off Michael's head a couple times." He shakes his head, still laughing. "What time is the meeting?" he asks, once he finally has his hilarity under control.

"Five."

Hell adopted the twenty-four hour clock several decades ago. Lucifer said the familiarity would help keep the newly dead souls a little calmer. I'm not sure how effective it's been, but half the time, I'm still going on our old system. Thankfully, television—knowing when my favourite shows come on, specifically—has helped keep me at least somewhat on track.

"I'll be there," he states. I nod and turn back to the fireplace, but his voice stops me before I can leave. "I want Maydos alive." It's a command, not a suggestion. There's an undercurrent of power running through his voice, the same power that had him sitting at God's right hand for thousands of years; it's impossible to ignore. I'm forcibly reminded of why I follow the man, why I'm the only General who is and always will be completely loyal to him.

I turn back to him and nod. "Yes, sir." I pause. "Can I at least rough him up a little?"

There's a wide grin on Lucifer's face when he responds. "Do what you need to do. Just make sure he's still alive when I get there."

Without another word, I turn back to the fire and step into the flames. Once again, I'm standing in the hallway. My door is open when I get back to it; I didn't bother closing it when I left. When I first learned the art of fire-walking, I was told it was never a good idea to leave doors open. The hallway can be accessed by anybody with the talent, and if they see an open door, they're more than likely to pop in and see where it leads. But as far as I know, I'm the only fire-walker currently living in Hell, so fuck it.

Since I already know exactly what strategy I'll be employing at the meeting—the good old walk-in-like-nothing's-wrong-and-stab-the-shit-out-of-everybody method—I've got an afternoon to kill. Luckily, there's a Clint Eastwood marathon playing on tv.

"Jackpot," I say, as I throw myself on my bed and settle in for a couple solid hours of mindless downtime before the big fight.

When five o'clock finally rolls around, I almost don't want to get out of bed. The movie that's on is nearing the end, and I don't want to miss the best part. But duty calls, so after a moment's hesitation, I get to my feet and head for the door.

Maydos' palace is close, so there's no need for me to fire-walk there.

To go along with his inflated sense of self-worth, Maydos lives in the most extravagant place possible. His palace is the tallest building in Hell, even higher than Lucifer's own home. When Maydos had it built, Lucifer didn't say a word. I guess he found the General's arrogance amusing.

I always figured the egotistical prick was just compensating for having a cock like a shriveled grape.

A couple of my soldiers are standing by the door, smoking and trading stories. They snap to attention as I walk past, and I acknowledge them with a curt nod. None of them ask where I'm going; they know better than to question their superior.

I head down the street, which is clear of civilians—most of them fear my soldiers nearly as much as they fear me. I only pick the best, which in this particular case means the most violent and skilled at killing things. People tend to shy away from those sorts.

I'm not complaining. It means I only have to deal with the frightened stares of the commoners for the last couple of streets leading up to Maydos' compound.

Oh yes, he has a compound. Of course he does. There's a wall about fifty feet high all the way around his palace and his lands. He thinks he's better than everybody; why would he allow anything of his to come in contact with the places the regular people live? He's such a fucker, he even has his own army barracks set up outside the wall. Just so he doesn't have to interact with any of the rank and file soldiers.

Fucking prick. No wonder his army has so many deserters.

Sure enough, when I get a couple blocks away from home, I start to see some civilians out and about. They're doing whatever it is regular people do. Mostly just squabbling with each other and trying to steal anything that'll help them get through another day. There are no real jobs in Hell. Power is the only currency. The weaker demons do basic tasks for the powerful ones; they serve the food, make the cigarettes and booze, and clean the homes. In return, the powerful provide housing and protection. It's slave labour at its finest.

Those demons are the lucky ones though. There are others, ones who are born into the wrong families, or who just aren't suited to the menial jobs. They get sent to the Pits, where they have to fight one another for food and shelter. The powerful demons love that shit; nothing gets them harder than watching a couple of poor bastards beat the shit out of each other for some rancid meat and a mouthful of water.

The civilians around here are among the poorest in Hell. All of the smart ones fled when Maydos and I set up our respective homes in the area. The only people who still remain are the ones who have nowhere else to go. The live by scrounging through the trash our armies throw away, and hiding in the abandoned buildings that make up the neighbourhood.

Frankly, I'm surprised Maydos hasn't had his goon squad wipe out the lot of them. It seems like the kind of thing he'd do, douchebag that he is.

I ignore their stares as I walk past, keep my eyes focused straight ahead and a scowl on my face. I'm not like Maydos, like most of the powerful demons; I don't hate the poor, the normal. Hell, I sort of used to be one of them. But I have a reputation to keep up. I'm that never-smiling asshole who slaughters everybody in his way. The Devil's favourite killer.

Plus, they stink like shit. Finding enough drinking water to stay alive is hard enough; bathing is out of the question.

None of them say anything as I pass. They just watch quietly from behind whatever cover they can find until I'm out of sight. I can feel their stares on my back, but it doesn't bother me. I'm used to it. That being said, I'm not sorry when I turn a corner and find myself just down the street from the colossal gate that provides entry into Maydos' compound.

The gate is guarded by two sentries. Both are similar in stature; tall, wide, and ridiculously muscled. Their skin is even the same colour; shit green. No two demons look the same, but these two could pass for twins. I've encountered them before. And unfortunately, neither has the same fearful respect for me nearly every other demon does.

Too much muscle, not enough brain, I suppose.

"Halt," one of them calls, as soon as I step within fifteen feet of the gate. "What's your business here?" Each of them is holding a long, spear-like weapon known as an estan.

"I'm here to pick up Sally for our date. She told me to be here at five." I look at my wrist, pretend to squint at the wristwatch that isn't there. "Isn't she ready?"

Dumb and dumber don't appreciate my humour. "What do you want?" They raise their estans and level them at my chest.

From the expressions on their faces, I start to think maybe coming through the front door wasn't such a great idea after all. Maybe Maydos didn't tell the guards he was expecting company; all the Generals do have other, more secretive modes of transportation.

I eye the two guards, choosing which one to deal with first, if it comes to that. Neither offers a particularly attractive choice. They're both bigger than me, and holding weapons that extend their reach even farther.

"Maydos told me to be here at five. Don't tell me he didn't tell you."

There's a momentary pause, then both brutes relax. "No, he told us. We just wanted to see you squirm, jackass." The one on the right grins, exposing far more teeth than is necessary. "And it's General Maydos to you."

I cock an eyebrow. "If I had my way, it wouldn't be anything. He'd be dead and buried. Now get the fuck out of my way."

Neither looks pleased, but they lower their weapons and step apart. The gate slowly swings inward once my path is clear, letting out a terrible screech as it does. "One of you should oil that thing before it finishes murdering all our eardrums," I say, not looking back at the sentries.

"Fuck you," one of them growls.

I don't bother turning back to them. I'm already through the gate and it's swinging closed, that screech once again wreaking havoc on my ears. I ignore it though, as best I can, and stride up the stone path to the palace's front door. It too is guarded by a pair of demons. These one are different from the previous two; they're smaller, closer to my size. And a whole Hell of a lot more dangerous.

I recognize them immediately; Crydak and Forzal. They've been working for Maydos for as long as I can remember. They're not typical demonic soldiers; instead of relying on brute force, they're adept at killing using magical means. All demons are capable of using magic, to a greater or lesser extent. We're all able to make calls and shit like that. These two can do a shitton more.

But their abilities aren't what worries me. If push comes to shove, I know for a fact I can take them. I've faced down a lot worse in my time, and I'm still standing. No, it's the fact they're guarding the door that's odd. Generally, they serve as Maydos' personal bodyguards. If he's about to spring a trap for me, and make a play for Lucifer's throne, it would make more sense to have them at his side.

By this time, they've spotted me. Unlike the two dickstains at the gate, these two know their place. They both bow respectfully to me. "General Maydos is expecting you, sir," Crydak says, his voice barely above a whisper.

I acknowledge his words with a nod, and pause to let the massive double doors open. They swing open silently—thank fuck for that—and I step inside. As always, it's a lot cooler inside Maydos' palace than outside. He has no less than six demons whose only duty is to use their magic to keep his whole place cool, all day, every day. If it ever goes above a certain temperature, he has them all slaughtered and replaced.

The entryway of the palace is bare of all guards. The marble floor, covered by designs that are meant to look decorative while actually being powerful protection runes, has been polished extensively. The towering columns that support the incredibly high ceiling have been washed since the last time I saw them. It's an impressive sight, one meant to intimidate anyone who walks through the doors.

But I've seen it before, and I've seen better.

My footsteps echo off the walls of the vast lobby as I head for the grand staircase opposite the door. The slight rustle of wings flapping is all that alerts me to the fact I now have company. I don't need to look to know who it is. Lucifer.

"He's cleaned up this dump since my last visit," he says, falling into step beside me.

"Yeah. I wonder why?" We reach the bottom of the staircase and begin to ascend. My footsteps are the only sound that breaks the silence; Lucifer doesn't make a noise. Sometimes, I envy they way he can move without making a sound. It's a skill I could definitely make use of.

When we reach the top, Lucifer grabs my arm and pulls me to a stop. "Listen carefully," he says, his voice low and resonating with the same authority as earlier. "Do not waste time. As soon as Maydos reveals his plan, destroy the rest of the Generals. I'll be nearby, and I will come for the traitor." He releases my arm, whispers, "Watch your back," and is gone.

There's a short hallway at the top of the stairs. At the end, it opens up into another expansive room. Doors ring the walls to the left and the right, but a single set of double doors is the only portal in the far wall. I've been through those doors before, for war meetings and social gatherings. It's Maydos' all purpose conference room. That's where I head.

There aren't any guards standing in front of those doors, and no invisible force opens them for me. So I grab the handles and pull them open myself. I put a little too much effort into it, and both doors slam against the expensive walls.

What can I say? I like to make an entrance.

The other seven Generals are already at the meeting, seated around a large stone table. Maydos is standing at the head of the table, hands in the air.

I guess I interrupted him mid-point.

The scowl on my face—my default expression—is in full force as I look around the room. "Maydos," I say, nodding at the man. The other seven turn in their seats to look at me, but I don't bother acknowledging them. I'm here for Maydos; the rest are just a sideshow.

"Ah, so glad you could make it, my friend." Maydos pastes a smile on his face and makes his way around the edge of the table, heading straight for me. "I thought you might decide to no-show me."

He puts a hand on my shoulder and I shrug it off. "Cut the bullshit, Maydos. We both know what's going on here."

I've never seen anybody look more like a snake than Maydos does when I say that. He gets this weird grin on his face, impossibly wide and smug. If I wasn't so confident in myself, I might think he knows something I don't.

"Oh?" he says, drawing back from me and cocking his head to the side. "And what exactly is going on here?"

I shake my head. "You're about to kick off your grand plan. You're finally going to try and take out Lucifer." One of the other Generals chuckles, but Maydos doesn't make a sound. He just stares at me, that creepy smile still on his face. "And killing me is step number one. Once I'm out of the way, you and your cronies,"—I gesture to the other Generals—,"can finally make a move on Lucifer and try to take over Hell."

That gets a reaction from Maydos. Slowly, he raises his hand and starts to clap. "Very good, my friend. Unfortunately, you only got part of that right." He pauses, and his smile morphs into a blood-thirsty grin. "The part about you dying."

I don't see the attack coming; the blade comes from somewhere behind me. I feel it pierce my back, just above my ribcage, to the left of my spine. The sudden pain is overwhelming and I drop to my knees. I try to reach behind me, try to grab the handle of the knife. But there's nothing there. It's already been removed by whoever stuck me in the first place. But the wound still burns like Hell and it feels like there's something there.

"It's an enchanted blade," Maydos says. He's grinning down at me, the light of victory shining in his eyes. "Powerful magic. It binds any person it's used on, stops them from moving and healing. They eventually bleed out. I stole it from Lucifer centuries ago; he brought it with him from Heaven. It almost hurts me to use it on you instead of him, but plans change and you're the bigger threat at the moment. Or you were."

Despite his gloating words, he's careful to stay away from me. Even bound by angelic magic, I scare him. It's not much, but I get a little satisfaction anyways.

Pussy.

My limbs are getting heavier. I had to struggle to reach behind me a minute ago; now, I can't move my arms at all. I'm slumping lower, my head's getting harder and harder to hold up. The knife's magic is incredibly powerful; I've never felt so weak in my life. My mind is still going strong though. I don't understand why this is happening. I don't mean my death. I've been a thorn in Maydos' side for long enough to know he's wanted me dead for years.

His words, those are the confusing bit. I was so sure I was right about his plan. I've always been Lucifer's right-hand man. Maydos has always known he wouldn't be able to successfully overthrow the boss with me and my army standing in the way. Calling the secret meeting, inviting me, trying to kill me; those all perfectly sync up with what I thought would happen—minus the stabbing part. I thought I'd be able to avoid that.

But from what he said, it sounds like he's not interested in taking over anymore. He's got something else up his sleeve. And I have no choice but to believe; why would he bother lying to a dead man?

Struggling mightily, I force my head up and look toward the table. Maydos has already turned his attention from me. He's back at the head of the table, his back is to me, and he's staring at the unadorned wall in front of him. The other Generals are flanking him on either side, mirroring his stance.

What the fuck is going on?

It takes a moment, but I gradually realize they're chanting. They're using an odd language, one I've never heard before. And I've been around for awhile, heard more than a few weird languages, so that's saying something.

As the chanting slowly gets louder, the wall begins to glow. It starts off very soft, almost imperceptible. But as they continue to chant, the light strengthens more and more, until it's painfully bright. Then, another light begins to shine from a tiny point at the very center of it. The new light is blue, and it slowly starts to expand.

I recognize it now. That electric blue light can only be one thing; a portal. My fellow Generals are opening a doorway to some other dimension. That's what they've been hiding. That's apparently why I have to die.

Except I'm not dying. My limbs are becoming lighter. My head isn't so heavy anymore and I can feel strength returning to my body. I don't know why. Maybe the light from the portal is messing with the knife's magic. Maybe the magic is defective, degraded by time. Or maybe I'm stronger than they give me credit for. It doesn't matter though. All that matters is I'm getting stronger. Soon, I'll be able to act. I don't know what they're doing, where the portal leads, but I'm going to stop them. I'm loyal to Lucifer, loyal to Hell, and these traitors are trying to do something they don't want the boss to know about.

Before my strength completely returns, I notice something odd. The blue light of the portal has grown until it's almost taken up the entire wall. But they've done something wrong. The white light has disappeared, replaced by a strange band of grey. It borders the blue all the way around, and as I look on, slowly begins to expand, eating into the blue.

"The void!" I hear one of them cry. I don't know which one. Probably Drakos. I know he's studied dimensional travel before. "We must go now! Don't touch the grey!"

The others don't understand why he's so nervous. None of them—save for maybe Maydos—understand the significance of the void. But I do. I know what that cold grey is.

The void is the space between the dimensions. It is nothing; empty space, completely devoid of all things. It is the fucking definition of nothing. And life cannot exist within in. Anything that enters the void becomes it, becomes nothing. I've heard stories of unfortunate dimension-hoppers who miscalculated jumps and ended up in the void. They were never heard from again.

Just as the first General leaps through the portal, I feel my power come roaring back. It had been a trickle up to that point, slowly flowing back into my body. But suddenly, it's all back and I'm on my feet. I leap over the table with a roar, angling toward Maydos. He sees me coming out of the corner of his eye and does the logical thing; he pushes the guy next to him into me and jumps through the portal.

"No!" I roar, enraged by his timely escape. I take out my frustration on the General he threw at me; Drakos. I connect with a vicious backhand to his face and he hits the ground. I haul him back to his feet by the front of his shirt and draw back my fist.

The reptilian demon doesn't stand a chance against me in physical combat, and he knows it. Quick as a flash, he slips under my arms and hurls himself through the portal. That allows Gralik to take his place as my opponent.

Gralik is a bigger demon, bigger than me. He's smart too, smart enough to press whatever advantage he has. In this case, it's reach. He wraps me up in his huge arms and hurls me across the room. I don't have a chance to cushion my landing. I hit the far wall hard, ten feet off the ground, and drop like a bag of rocks. The fall, and the original collision hurt like Hell, but I'm back on my feet in a second.

Unfortunately, Gralik is expecting that. He's standing before me, ready to act the instant I'm up. Before I can throw a single punch, he's got ahold of both arms and slams me back into the wall again. The back of my head hits stone and I'm seeing stars.

On the positive side, they're a lot prettier than Gralik's ugly face.

He ragdolls me, shakes me until I go limp. And that's when things get interesting.

I'm not sure what exactly happens to spark Gralik's sudden brainwave. Maybe Drakos' earlier warning about the void pops into his mind. Maybe he's lost in bloodlust. For whatever reason, he decides to stop ramming me against the wall and introduces me to the portal instead.

It all happens in slow motion. When he turns, I'm still sort of out of it, and I don't immediately realize what's happening. My eyes are open: I can just see over Gralik's shoulder. A form appears right where I'm looking, in the doorway. Even addled as it is, my brain places the newcomer immediately. It's Lucifer, and his mouth is open. He shouting something but I can't hear him. I see his hand reach out in my direction, and he takes a step forward.

That's all he can do. Gralik is moving too fast, and I'm too out of it to fight back.

I feel the magic behind me, slowly getting weaker and weaker. Without the constant chant to keep it open, the portal is closing. But it's not fast enough to save me.

My back contacts the void first. It feels like red hot pokers are being driven into flesh. I've been tortured before, felt some of the worst pain Hell can inflict on someone. And it's nothing like what I'm feeling now. The agony is so bad, I can't even scream. It only gets worse the farther I'm pushed. That same burning pain spreads up my back, quickly taking up residence in my shoulders and neck. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.

The last thing I see, a snapshot of my last second in Hell, is a study in contrasts. Gralik's leathery face is in the foreground, mouth gaping open, red eyes wide and brimming with bloodlust. He's the demon of everybody's nightmare, the crazed monster waiting in the dark to rip out your entrails and bathe in your blood. Over his shoulder is Lucifer. His eyes are wide, his jaw slack, and angelic face frozen in shock. His hand is outstretched, reaching toward me in a futile effort to save my life.

My head enters the void and everything disappears.